12/12/2014

Festival of Lights

Story Sent in by Aaron:

I had been together with Julie for around two months when she asked me to help her put Christmas lights up on her house on a particularly snowy day. "We can do a holiday dinner together afterward," she promised me.

I went over, she handed me strings of lights, told me where to put them, and set me to work. I climbed a ladder to her roof and began the festivities.

After a few minutes, I noticed that Julie wasn't so much helping me as she was just sort of watching. In addition to lighting up her roof, she also wanted me to put lights in her shrubs. I wasn't sure why she couldn't set up the lights in her bushes, herself, while I worked on her roof. Would've saved time. And also would've fit the definition of "help." I wasn't so much helping her as I was doing all the work while she just watched while drinking a cup of hot chocolate.

As I nearly finished lighting up her roof, I looked down again and saw her not only with a cup of hot chocolate but also with a bowl of popcorn, munching away. For all intents and purposes, I felt like the star attraction of the most boring stage show in the world.

"Keep going," she said, "You're not done, yet."

"I think the roof is done. And I can use a break."

"The roof is not done. No break until it is. I seriously wanted this done last weekend."

"Well, I'm taking a break." I made for the ladder.

She jolted to it and pushed it down so that it toppled over. I said, "Seriously? Stop playing around. I'll finish in a bit."

"You'll finish now or you'll never escape my roof. You'll just be stuck there and die. Or you can just finish your job. Your choice."

Remembering that there was a deck on the side of the house that wasn't too far below, I made for it and hopped down. She set down her popcorn bowl, approached me, and said, "Go back up. You're not done! You're not done! You'll never be done!"

"I'm done for now. Seriously. I can finish once I—"

She swung at me with her free hand, hitting me in the chest. I responded by knocking the hot chocolate out of her other hand and into the snow.

She looked at me like I was a monster and before things could escalate further, I left her house and her life. Permanently.

A diddler on the roof. Sounds crazy, no? But here in our little blog of abadcaseofthedates, you might say every one of us is a diddler on the roof: trying to continue a pleasant, simple date without them breaking our neck. It isn't easy. You might ask: "Why do they keep dating if it's so if it's so dangerous?" We continue to date because we fear being alone. And how do we make light of all the crazies and loonies we encounter? That I can answer in one word: Blogging!

I sense it was a case of "I don't like you all that much, but you're free labor". Like that story of the date who tried to get him to help her move. Or the girl who set him to work addressing envelopes, promising lunch afterwards, then changed her mind.

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